Sunset views

This is a photo of the view from our Lolo house, at sunset. Actual colors.
We are going there on our way to visit the Park City and Utah families over the holidays.

Gorgeous Texas

During the last week we decamped to Texas for a pleasant vacation visit and Thanksgiving celebration just outside San Antonio at the squire-home of the Smith's. Unfortunately I had a cold coming on, possibly inherited from some child at school or such, so I was suffering from that challenge. Even so I managed to enjoy the activities which included a day-long visit to Sea World (with me going to each boy's room to blow my nose and take a decongestant, etc.)I didn't do the raft ride down the swift water feature (there was one too few seats so I volunteered to stay dry on shore) but everyone else enjoyed the heck out of it. A couple of the big boys went on the super high roller-coasters (the Steel Eel or some such name, or was it the blue sky surprise?) The Smith's used their season tickets (courtesy of the Park City bunch) and we subsidized the San Antonio economy to the tune of $100.00, and that was after my military discount. Thursday morning some of us played sandlot football with some of the church folk, and I managed to handicap Dave right away with a knee to the knee cap. I mostly played "getting in the way" which is a new position in touch football reserved for old farts.
I did some shopping at the Aeropostale shop, and now I am decked out in a completely cool outfit; what do you call this kind of clothing nowadays? Hip? or Rad? or Funky? possibly they don't quite suit me since I don't really know the language, but I'm trying to be contemporary. Since I teach second grade today, possibly I can wear my new togs and get some respect at least from that age group. I think in today's culture, acceptance is just some kind of gang-wanna-be hand sign, three fingers out for the third street gang? or the "w" for the west end barrio.
And, not be forgotten, the traditional turkey and all the stuffing's dinner was great, so I highly recommend a visit to these folks by any other family members in the future. I made a turkey soup with the left over carcass which was acceptable "...better than I expected" was Austin's review.
Thanks again for all the big Texas-style hospitality.

New Moon

Each day the new moon
grows wider in its passage across the delicate blue sky
a symbol of contentment and growing harmony
not a religious symbol for me
yet an icon
acting as intermediary between me and Universe
connecting in this way expands my Soul
illustrating the Oneness referred to by the prophets
otherwise, I am at a loss to understand that.
Thinking of this essential unity, however,
does not inform my sensibilities.
It begs the question of the purpose for life
and sends the discussion scurrying off
in a different direction
like the silver tailed squirrel
that just happened across my path.
To my way of thinking, we learn more about love
and kindness by understanding all the
differences between ourselves and our
essential others –
and this is informative and beneficial
as long as we understand the similarities,
the message of waxing Moon and our essential unity.

I.J. Hall

Life Continues

The top most part of the elegant fir
that borders and decorates the northeast corner of Beaver Pond
is bare and damaged by the Eagle’s perching
but there are three branches leaning upward to replace it
to regenerate its pinnacle
and this is how my life continues.

I.J. Hall, April 30, 2005



Thriving

I keep spraying the blackberries
And poison oak
But the native wild raspberries
Growing and thriving are now blooming
And I will encourage their presence
By leaving them alone.

~~
The bedstraw is so juvenile
But threatens to entangle all around
And distribute its burrs to all passersby
Teaching us, I suppose
How to survive and thrive
In a difficult, adverse world.

I.J. Hall, April 30, 2005

We have been experiencing the leftovers of the rain that has flooded especially Western Washington. Another of life's great ironies, that the Pacific NW is flooding and the dry, hot windy weather in California is burning the place up.

I was teaching the last two days, and Friday I was even a crossing guard on the street with a flag and all. I haven't done that since I was in the third grade. I really felt "retired" doing that. Next, I will be applying at Wallmart to be a door greeter!! Its neat how grandparents show up at school, some spend time with their children pushing swings, etc. I thought how proud I was when I went to school with Kat, my granddaughter, and how much fun I had going to another montesori school around the world in Park City... just like going to school with Ken and Ben when they were shorter.
So this is a busy weekend, with ticket taking, and a couple of parties, things to do just for us.

Instinct of Love

Comeback to me sweet “dove of Peace.”
Come with the wind, be there in the rain
That washes clean both my Soul and Earth.
Stay with me and sing - our truth —
So when the new day dawns I am whole
To greet that one who wants my love--
Who I want.
Coax me with your cooing to be true
To my own desire and interests
To feel deeply, emotions of life
That live in my center.
These rest there to be shared in intimacy
To create bonding.
This instinct of love is as whole and strong
As my desire for integrity and health.~

We can all share this kind of open love with each other, and what a nice world we would each have!!!

Ticket taking

I went to the football game on Saturday to see Arizona trounce Washington State U,;-(
I am a ticket taker at the game, and saw some of the action, although there was probably more action at my gate with people trying to get in without a ticket, particularly in the second half. What's that about?
We had guests this last week, my step-daughter and her three daughters. We read stories and took walks, and did some puzzles, and baked a punkin pie, and colored in books, and all sorts of fun things.
nothing else could be that exciting so enough for now.

Promises to keep

What an exciting turn of the page for our Western culture, to finally come into the 21st century with less bigotry, but of course not clean. I am myself accused of being a sexist frequently, (which is not as bad as the epithet "racist") but the habits of my speech that give rise to this complaint are inadvertent I assure you, since I have been so thoroughly educated to avoid this kind of thinking... and I believe in equality of individuals based on recognition as individuals, so I never identified with B. Obama because of his gender, nor did I think we should have a President based on Affirmative Action, and I even object to his call for change (which always seemed like the vacuous Russian Leninist-Communist call for "Revolution" at any cost!) but of course we are always changing, impermanent, and since change is inevitable why not just make it a useful slogan? And in the meantime try to make the change healthy and beneficial. Why not?
So can B. Obama deliver on his campaign promises, to invest in Green technology, to make what health care is possible available to all, (remember since we don't have cures for all diseases, we can never make health care a Right, it is always a privilege because of the limited technology involved)? Will he make a quick fix by expanding medicare and medicaid? to take care of those who cannot afford insurance? thus spreading the privilege around a bit better? and by the way, J. McCain's tax credit plan is totally superfluous and a ridiculous idea? Poor people who do not pay taxes do not receive benefits from a tax credit any more than they do by not having a job that gives them medical insurance which is an income benefit to us privileged who do not pay income tax on that benefit!@! Thus from an economist's point of view, (mine) Tax exempt medical benefits is a government subsidy for the well to do, leaving the poor completely without any kind of benefit except from welfare, which is degrading and demoralizing unless it is available to all and not to just a few select indigent people.
I hope that this along with a phased withdrawal from Iraq (AND AFGHANISTAN) are his first priorities. (How did we somehow get the idea that fighting in Afghanistan is more virtuous than fighting in Iraq?)I am thinking about applying to be Secretary of Agriculture, but I will need the support and encouragement of anyone who happens to read this blog. Please stop now and write a letter to B. Obama and recommend me for the position, since I am otherwise underemployed and available. My first priority would be to go to Afghanistan and Iraq and help them develop sustainable farming that did not involve producing heroin.
That is another subject, revolving around the question: Are drug addicts self-selected? in much the same way that political prominence and leadership is self-selected? They may be self-eliminating at a huge social cost, but they seem to be replaced by new generations each year. Is it our society that produces these helpless people who create the demand for illegal (and prescription) drugs. Therefore am I partially to blame because I have never been active in stomping out drug overuse (indeed I enjoy my occassional wine). What will B. Obama do to keep his promise to develop the economy and improve education as a partial solution?
I predict he will very quickly move to fund an expanded social/Domestic Corps of young volunteers to work in every community to improve the effectiveness of our social institutions. Too many people are disinfranchised by our very complicated social arrangements. (The public library should be a place to hang out, instead of the Mall.) Now is the time to act!! Irv for Sec. of Agriculture.

Tao of Truth

I carry the tao of truth
Like a pregnant walrus.

Pond Savings Time/ Historical Reverie

Earth rises gently, subtly
Against the falling Sun
As we do each evening
But this Time is now—
Visited as we are – the black dog and I --
By a giant, green bull-frog
Scorned no less as invasive species are we, by himself -
Yet fleeting – as the Kill Deer mocks our presence
Beside our own pond!

This Time behaves irrepressibly anxious.
Perhaps because of the intense joy I feel
Relaxing here on this half-log, rocking-bench
The water of the striped pond moving all in front
In various circles prompted by unseen forces
Calms me and chides me for my impatience

As Time runs surreptitiously ahead.
Not unlike my own life
Driven to accomplish ideals that do not concede to logic
We rush headlong into decline like Sun
Because Earth turns under us notwithstanding.
Listening closely we hear a slight knocking,
Vague sound coming from the Wood Duck Box.
Such a welcome secret can only be a good portent
For both this Nature that surrounds us
And for my life
- anxiously we await their début
those harbingers of joy.

As Sunlight diminishes the unctuous voices
Of so many frogs in a choir encircling us,
-Except the one nearest is silent
Content to watch rather than pray-
Like Gregorian Chanters, sing forth
Blessings onto us and anyone who listens.

The orange glow of our fading Sun
Is celebrated by splashing fish and a sonorous swallow
Well after its proper moment to feed
Calls his companions as should we –
But we don’t
- we sit and hoard the solitude
Remembering fondly previous shared Time
Bemoaning the distant Space and Inhumanity
Which separate us from those glorious moments.
The Pink sky adorns the graceful cirrus clouds
That wisp and clutter the graying dome
With a dense texture of comfort
That pillows my restless soul.
Only recently have I allowed myself to appreciate
How happy I am during these solitary moments --
If it is possible to count this Time as solitude
Harangued as we are by petulant pond noises.

If I were to share this witness
Would it by that communal sentry
Be more sacred than perceived alone, now?
Would my own happiness be more obvious?
There is room here on this rocking-log for two
As indeed all the seats around Beaver Pond
Are thus contrived to host two dreams as well as one.
But just as this huge frog chooses to sit
Quietly, patiently with us,
So will I sit quietly, patiently, observant
Until the allure of my Nature draws another here.

Where are the Bats tonight?
Again I am impatient.
Their company would be a diversion.
As the Purple drains from the sky,
Our amphibious companion seeks shelter.
And as dusk deepens, Time likewise escapes,
But not before we are graced by the first Bat of Night.
Now too, the two White Chinese Swan Geese
Who own this place and are never separated
Have joined our party – at a convenient distance.
What a beautiful couple they make.

And our delight takes on more qualities
As our five new ducks play on the old tree
In the border shadow cast by new trees.
They call and tease sweetly, clinging to each other
As if by their closeness they are made less vulnerable.
Alone or together they live at risk
But by this simple caution, they divide,
Thus reduce the troublesome reminder
Of their ultimate aloneness.
Could I, should I, do the same again?

Then we who watch contently become objects of inspection
As a curious Nutria swims back and forth in front of us
Questioning our motives. After three turns
He leaves with the sure knowledge that his habitat,
The Beaverlodge, is unaffected by these strange creatures-
We- who only occasionally menace from ashore.
He is the smartest animal in the water,
And he knows we are so much less than he
Because we can only safely reside on land.
How could any animal, so limited, be a threat to him?
Clearly I am not, as he is not to us, but Cocoa?
So, we each relax contently sharing only curiosity.

Darkness blesses us too soon with so many noises,
As described, an euphony of hymns that enlighten us,
So we make our way adroitly in the dark,
Returning for repose to our other home.

Teaching Math

Math teacher discourse
is a rabbit
jumping
over the snow of the students' minds.

Oct 24, 2008

Back to peace (or rather Palouse.)

After a quick visit to Atlanta to visit my son and daughter-in-law and their new baby Powell Norris Jacob, I feel stiff and sore from all that travel, but otherwise excited and rewarded for having met the newest member of our family. What a handsome boy! I have to say he didn't seem to resemble this grandpa, however I could see a lot of potential resemblance to his Great- Uncle Joe. Maybe it was the bald head, since my brother has been shaving his head lately. (I want to start the rumor that he is also becoming a Buddhist.)
I voted today, in a curious way. I submitted my registration in good order, but somehow a clerk miss-arranged my name which is easy enough to do, since I am blessed with three last names, Irvin Hall Jacob, they typed Jacob Hall Irvin, which sounds like a perfectly good name, but it did not match my social security records, so they suspected with a form letter, that I was a fraudulent voter. I had to drive twenty miles to Colfax to the county seat to show some household identification, and convince them I was a legitimate person, and that I only wanted to vote once, in spite of the fact that I have lived in Montana, Idaho and Oregon during the last five years, and why would I now want to vote in Washington?
On the ballot about half the positions open are unopposed; so much for democracy? But of course the big issue is the Presidency, and if you think that voting for one or another leading candidate will make a change in the US or Global economic crisis, or the terrorist issue, or the ethical debate surrounding gays or abortion, think again. The only likely surprise to come from this election will be to see how little influence the American President, whomever, will have on any of the key issues including the way we ration health care. Am I just being cynical? Let me know if you think so, possibly I have a deed to a bridge and I will just sign it over to you.

My work at the Literacy Council of the Palouse has begun in earnest and I have combined my first set of volunteer/client together. I teach the tutor how to help, encourage them "Yes you can do this." and we met the prospective client who is a deserving special ed person now adult who still needs the kind of support we can offer, because he is a dishwasher and wants to get promoted to being a cook, but he can't read the recipes. So this will be a satisfying avocation.

Be Free

The tiny goldfinch
Clings to the swaying branch
So naturally
As long as I stand still.
If I move toward it
She flies away
Like so much of nature and love
It cannot be possessed only appreciated. ~


The Geese

The Canadians fly over
singing
whatever song I am prepared to hear
one of joy
or of haunting sorrow.
October 24, 2008

Compelling Solitude

This has been a long, gentle afternoon.
Time goes more slowly when one is alone,
Feeling the seconds ticking with my heart.

The little bugs that crawl
on the pink wild roses
enjoy the gentle passage of time
and poignant fragrance
as much as I do.

The black dog circles and paws
the ground anxiously, cautiously
repeating this ritual before he deigns to lie
in an unsuitable place.
I must be doing the same thing.

There is in witnessing these simple pleasures of solitude
A compelling and restful peace. This is
A welcoming place for pleasant memories.

I.J. Hall, May 24, 2003

Congratulations

Yes, I have been selected out of a group of un-known size to be the next Coordinating director of the Palouse Literacy Council. This means I will have a part time job that involves soliciting volunteers to help and advertising for adult clients to be served who wish to learn how to read better. Possibly this job will expand to serve math numeracy, and GED and ESL. The council will pay me a monthly "stipend" and I will have some office hours and do some presentations to companies and civic groups. It's about time I got off my b... and did something useful.


My Peasant Soul


I have this vision
Of my peasant Soul
Shining with the glow
Of the declining yellow Sun
Standing at the end
Of harvested rows of sugar beets
Gleaning in musical silence
The tops and sweet roots
Left behind by the anxious
And frenetic harvesters
The women, some rapped in
Bright red and flower patterns
Some wearing their black weeds
As monuments to lost loves
All these smiling generously
With their gold capped teeth
Gleaming, sparkling their
Simple joy as mine
Collecting their meager prizes
To fatten festival hogs
They labor freely, honestly
As I would hope to do
Solemnly they purify the loam
With their ancient, sturdy hands
Laughing, smiling and gleaming
Near Moscow, October, 1989.

November 11, 2003

Taught 5th Grade

Today was a pleasant day in the fifth grade, possibly more pleasant for me than when I was actually in the fifth grade. Let's see, what do I remember, practically nothing about that year (1956?), except playing basketball against the 6th graders, and our team did pretty good, (I believe we lost, even so) because I was playing with all the "good guys" however I wasn't one of them in the same sense. I think this was the year that I figured out about the rotation of Earth on it's axis and was able to visualize how it would spin, tilt and revolve around Sun all at the same time. And then of course we learned about Moon and constellations. I still find astronomy fascinating, and read Discover Magazine frequently.
Today we made paper airplanes in the science class because it was the first day in a new booklet on "Variables" and it talked about experiments and scientific inquiry, and it took 15 minutes to read it and then there was nothing planned that I could find, so we did our own experiments with aeronautics. There was a lesson on this in the back of the booklet, so we just jumped ahead, it is something that can always be repeated. Since these kids did not have PE or recess in the AM, we opened the door and went outside to fly the planes. Great fun, even for me.
We had a math lesson on addition, which seemed rather late for 5th grade, a problem on factors, and then a crossword puzzle on fractions, and multiplying and other maths. That was good. There were some of the students who still didn't get the worksheet on addition correct, at least not very quickly, and some who had it done practically before it got passed out. This is a very multi-cultural, multi-ethnic community with students from several different countries. Math-crossword puzzles are a great way to review a lot of math and connect the maths to language. I don't think I had ever seen one before.
Last Friday I taught English in freshman high school, and it is always so depressing to see how poorly students write and think in the 9th grade. There must be something about that freshman year, some are still writing at 5th grade levels. Many of the fifth graders would out perform half the 9th graders.

I am including some short poems because I know there is someone out there who likes short poems!

After the rain
Reflecting on this scene is apt
Because after the rain everywhere
I see pools reflecting.
So seeing and understanding
Is made easier
When in this way Nature echoes its visions.

Animated
The mist dances gracefully above the polished surface of Beaver Pond
Partnering, animated with the sparkling reflections of the elegant trees
Made happy and brilliant by early morning Sun.
I.J. Hall, July 24, 2004

Godly

Planting flowers, bulbs and seeds
Is an erstwhile godly act
Knowing the future
Planning for the beauty
That will inevitably follow.
I.J. Hall, July 24, 2004

Memoir 105

I watched you for such a long time
as long as I can remember
without ever trying
these memories come tumbling
bruising and unwelcome
replacing other more modern thoughts
when these are no better but easier

I watched you grow older
although I never changed
as I saw the scenes of my youth
through the same curious eyes
trying to see beyond the skin
for the motivation searching the distorted love

I watched you being there seldom smiling
a fixture yet so remote in a different world
ignorant of my unspoken expectations
a place I could not understand
nor never will until I see myself
in that same isolated space alone
and you stayed there for so long
under the scrutiny of my noticing
and you influenced me too much
as I think about it now
wanting to be different
wanting to be so much better
but I’m not, which is my burden

I watched you when you went away
a confused stranger to yourself
and I did see you then as you were
vulnerable, self critical to a fault
lacking in that core self esteem
I could only see the negative space
like a shadow without a standard

I watched you then in my mind
as a wishful, errant, hapless spirit
somehow distant and unknowable
possibly, I felt sorry for you

I watched you when you were not there
as someone I wanted to see in a different way
I felt sorry for myself
a fledgling too early on his own
but that is the course of nature
that is the curse and blessing of Humanity
to have you yet not to know you
to be of you yet to seek my own way

I watched you taking the place of no one else
but not holding that place until later
and when later came the shoes were switched
and needing to have a different life
and bravely, I pursued that love
that calls us all to our tasks
mine was no less automatic than yours
and equally unfulfilled, lacking
but by that vacantness made somehow larger

I watched you then with your wounded pride
resolute to see beyond yourself
isolated from your own potential
condemned by your own failed ambitions
unsettled always imagining a higher worth

I watched you as a sad, broken mirror
of whom I did not want to be but am
in so many ways I cannot shake
yet there is this resonating voice
of gratitude gnawing that calls me right
to thank my fortune for my grace

I watch you alive in me
to make a better world in a feeble way
striving in this way for undeserved immortality
this voice is a whisper in each wind
reminding me of whom I am in spite of myself
taking me down but sustaining me
ambiguous feelings of regret and forgiveness
grateful for what so many have not
envious for what so few have in abundance

I watch you in my voice, in my walk
I know you better from whom I am
than from what I saw, bewildered.

Written on September 26, 2008, 105th anniversary of the birth of Joseph Reed Jacob who passed away April 22, 1971

Pregnant with Love

(On the occassion of just becomming for the 10th time a grandpa,
my new grandson is in Atlanta tonight for his first night,
however I thought how appropriate this poem was,
not entirely, but in different ways appropriate for differernt people
as are most poems.)

I am lying here pregnant with hope.
For the last six months I have resisted writing this poem.
It has resided in my subconscious
as a dream or vision of a hopeful life
together with a stable and solid friend.
Not in a - too good to be true – way
But in a way that if you talk about it,
the dream might not come to pass.

This vision is still gestating, protected
it has begun metamorphosis
And gradually, ever so cautiously
it is articulating, swelling and growing.
I can feel its heart beating with mine
as I visualize scenes from the future
vividly. Kind touching and sharing
Ideas, feelings and telling -- pure emotions
that are wholesome and beneficial
dance across the theatre of my mind.

These are just a few of the predictions that pass
my minds’ eye as the wisp of a concept.
Others elaborate - evocative of physical stimulation-
In this poem they take life, larger more wishfully
than I have dared to think.

Thus I am making myself vulnerable
As the only possible way to honestly begin.
But I have not shared this preamble
And until I do, it will remain dormant.
The first reading will be its birth
Our first kiss will be its first breath
We have already shared our first touch
Innocently but significantly, I touched
Her elbow in parting
Making “…good night…” a passing of energy
A test of the current that might spark between us
in a future - that will have to wait
for a grander more auspicious ceremony
to inaugurate this vision into life.
What and when shall that be?
What sign will I know to advance this cause?

I will trust in the spontaneity that can only grow
out of a mutual dream.
Only then will I step forward and take ownership
Of this living and virtuous love as a newborn
And bless it with these simple words:
“I want to love you.”

In Tune with Nature

This has been another relaxing weekend in Pullman, for the most part.
Looking back I can't point to anything in particular that I have accomplished, except managing to unscrew the standpipe of the underground oil tank the original home owners left us. The furnace here was converted to gas, and the seller said they didn't know about an oil tank, and of course here it is, and I have determined that it has about 40 gal of heating oil still in it, (which means it doesn't leak probably) and the procedure is to empty the tank and then fill it with sand so it doesn't collapse some time in the future. So, I can do all that now that it is open and located etc. It is possible to do all that without having a permit, but I have called to get a permit, preferring to get lots of professional advice and wishing to do it right!
This is hardly a natural sequence of events, very much the opposite, the relic of man's gross footprint onto nature, at least potentially, considering there are likely 1,000's of houses around here with the same situation.
The only thing natural around here are the birds, with the finches coming daily to feed on the sunflower seeds and niger seeds. The quail come around constantly and sing such a pleasant natural song, like tuning in the radio to the songs that were here thirty thousand years ago, even before man arrived (which was thought to be about 11,000 years ago.) In the Fall of 2007, I took a class in Anthropology, the Archeology of the Pacific Northwest, which was very interesting. (And I exceeded my expectations for grade.) And I studied about the Bering Land Bridge, etc., and one concept in particular I wrote a paper on "Interactive Spheres." This describes how cultures divided by hundreds and thousands of miles can and did influence each other in those early days of pre-history. This concept can be used in other geographic regions to identify how disparate groups of people shared ideas, have similar words in their languages, used similar tools, valued similar "grave goods" and developed similar beliefs even though thousands of miles apart.
Turning the page:


Scrub Oak

I have been confused by the scrub oak
of all things.
They have been so encumbered
apparently
With a ragged coat of old brown leaves
which remains. Even now
as the pale, chartreuse
beginnings of Spring vegetation
is pleasantly returning to them,
I am forced
involuntarily
to compare this to my own character.

I.J. Hall
April 10, 2004



Moss

The moss lies softly on the scrub oak
Warming and protecting the willing branches,
but does not like the fir.
The affinity the oak shares satisfies the mosses' needs
more than do the handsome firs,
Yet each of these sturdy trees wears their finest
And gives solace with their unique beauty.
I.J. Hall, February 28, 2004, Eugene, OR.

Wages of Love

Why does love charge such high wages?
It scorns those who choose it.
It tempts those who from wisdom deny it
and in wisdom seek a substitute
for their claim is no less vain
than the poorest tenant to the land.
Charging money would not hurt more
than the pain filled purse it takes.

Love comes at the most awkward times,
even between two otherwise committed.
It touches the weakest hearts first
then insinuates itself ruthlessly
into even the stoutest breast.
The fluted sounds of Pan echo in the wind
And tempt me to dance and sing
Even when my mind bares the burden of despair.

No matter how artfully I avoid it,
a cunning stealth cloaks its master
who releases the tyrant ten times again
in order to claim its rent, and I
the victim, hapless creature, dumbly succumb.
While the spell is over my eyes
I am content and lazy with my tears.
But when cruel fortune claims its due,
I cry and ache like now
with my throat in its grip, strangling.
These tears are too dry to pay the cost.
I fail to make the bail against my captors.
This constricted tongue adds nothing
except to gag my shrunken, sallow soul.

Yet I fancy that trying to love again
Is somehow a noble effort?
But in truth it is a savage simplicity,
a blind instinct that compels me forward
into the jaws of death.
Courageous imbecile, unruly heart
no better, no more noble than my rooster
who would wake the world at 5:30 AM
if he could.

What a wicked diet this truth.
Its nourishment is a phantom.
These calories deposit in ugly heaps
yet fail to mask the wounds of love.
What a dismal solitude survives
this hoary ordeal of requited love gone bad.
The only respite is the darkness
that shrouds my loneliness,
and numbs my careless passion
with a sleep that brings no pleasure.
Cruel fate, be damned I say.

Would I be a happier person now
had I never contracted with this wicked sorcerer?
Is one who lies innocent of these ecstasies
all the better, not paying with a tormented spirit?
Or is this tax charged the same for all?
But since I am captured by it,
I am damned in love or out.
If thus, I am better off damned in love.
End

Teaching - Special Day

It is not so special just to teach in an elementary school, but to teach special ed is a very different experience. The kids are just so physically normal for 4th or 5th grades, and you show them some simple words and they can't sound them out or say them -- should, there, even-- and to add they must count, there is no place in their minds to just put two numbers together. Its hard to understand their limitations, but easy to reward their effort with praise.
Contrast that to Tuesday when I taught industrial drafting, and the kids were struggling with their own motivation to just do their work and study even though they had been given average or better intelligences, and as a result they were falling behind without even knowing it.
Wednesday evening I went to a meditation group at the UU church, and without sharing many words with those people, it was possible to sense a common spirit and make a bond of mutual seriousness and Right Thought.



The elements of this photo may seem mysterious to someone who doesn't know what is behind the icons and the metaphorical nature of the symbols. These are teaching aids and reminders for those who recognize the flowers as symbol of the beauty and impermanence of life and the teachings. The other symbols are likewise "mundane" once you understand them, but once you accept their teachings they become special again. This is a Taoist (Chinese) shrine we encountered in Australia. And I understand that Taoism was at least in part derived from the teachings of very early Buddhist traditions, with such similarities as the tao being related to the concept of "emptiness" in Buddhism.

Hummingbird Saga

A hummingbird arrived when I was standing
Near a Boojum tree
Which had a vine displaying long red flowers.
The bird hovered, motionless, wearing chartreuse plumage
It objected to my presence so near its food
I had no time to move.

I heard nature’s voice.
A subtle, soundless concept fluttering, but unmistakable.
“I need your love. Stay! Eat and share life’s pleasures.”
The bird’s wingless flight is a study in irony.
Such a huge, invisible effort is so graceful, poised.
Contrast the Boojum, erect, inglorious, awkward.

When we first met you invited my passion.
You spoke with kindness
I watched dumbfounded, clumsily,
I was caught in time.
The tassel on the Boojum, obtuse, graceless yet fragile
Heckled my unseemly posture.
Too enthralled to move I obstructed nature’s goal.

At first the bird whispered, “Will you love me?”
I was too eager, too close.
Beauty at first confuses those upon whom it shines.
There are other birds whose flight is patient.
Their songs are urgent,
Their colors less entrancing.
These fail to inspire.

“Can I meet you again? Fly to me softly.
Wait, prove nature’s voice. Or,
Prove the impossibility.
Bring meaning to my life.
Stay, accept the red flower.
We’ll solve the paradox.”

“No, I don’t trust you.
We cannot yet unite but kindred spirit be blessed.”

Why is life so cruel?
So close to sweetness, so divided by obstacles;
Teasing me with beauty then isolating me as victim?

I stumbled back.
“I only happened here. My position will improve.
Ignore the Boojum, see the vine,
Accept me and this red flower.”

The bird danced in brilliance.
“You have hurt me.”
A wary eye met mine.
“You are not true,”
She sang before fairness could appeal.

“Witness the integrity of my Soul!”

“No. I am too careful,”
The bird chided
Inspiring a traumatic sadness.
My heart surged to correct, but She was gone.
I was alone with my awkwardness.

When love speaks so soon any movement to accept
Diminishes nature’s charm.
Can love hover longer?
Or is this emotion fleeting?
“The Boojum is irrelevant.
Share my sweet red flower,” I entreated.
“Accept the possibility!” I cried to no one.

The vine abhors the Boojum tree.
Its fine leaves and red flowers slowly argue against reality.
Against the thorns of the bush, I make my empty case.
How can my presence cause so much hurt?
Careless is worse than clumsy.
Can innocence ever make amends?
I live to kiss the hummingbird.~

See reference, a poem by Lewis Carroll, "The Hunting of the Snark".

Why Buddhism?

I have been roughly acquainted with Buddhism since I was 20 years old, now more than 40 years. Initially I was put off by the mysticism, "reincarnation" or other misunderstandings of Buddhism. Most of the mystery I found previously in Buddhism was apparently due to the foreign language issue, because the teachings generally are quite frank, practical and transparent. There are mysterious teachings in each of the most active traditions, but these can either be accepted or viewed as aesthetic expressions of the mysteries inherent in life and human nature. The esoteric practices are cosmological traditions that have grown up without the benefit of modern 20th century scientific discoveries (as with the development of Christianity.) The art, the icons, the symbolism of Buddhism, as well as for any religious tradition, can appear mysterious. However, these human creations are most often devices to help devotees remember and incorporate the teachings into their lives. Art can be viewed as another kind of language, when we know the meanings the mysterious nature usually disappears. Now after having done a general study and prepared these lessons [having written the Buddhist Sutras,] I have an heightened appreciation for the spirituality of the people in Southern Asia and their practice of the religion of Buddhism. More importantly, I understand the benefit that can accrue to those schooled in Western philosophy, or Christianity of any stripe of religion, from following this course of study.



The goal of Buddhist dharma – Teachings -- as well as the Buddhist Sutras, is to make a transformation in the mind of the participants and thus have a significant and positive impact on each person’s life. “There is, of course, an enormous diversity within Buddhism and no fixed standard of orthodoxy. Nevertheless, even differing conceptions of the authentic tradition – and each school has some notion of orthodoxy – reveal a common ground of discussion.” (de Bary, pg. i) Thus there is some flexibility about what one can accept as part of a Buddhist practice, and I take from the different traditions according to what seems consistent in several different teachings, and what seems most authentic for my personal needs.
It is important to emphasize that the practice beyond any course of study is the essential ingredient of Buddhist training. “There are both direct and indirect ways of transforming the mind. Meditation is the most direct method, because in meditation the mind changes itself. But many other activities can have a positive, even transforming, effect through less direct means: friendship, Right Livelihood, and [participation in] the arts can all be seen as practices in this sense…” (Vishvapani, pg. 45) Furthermore it is possible to rigorously test one’s self-discipline, growth in awareness, development of compassion, ethical choices, and non-attachment when one engages in meaningful activities with family and friends.
“…The mind is always moving, always processing new ideas, new perceptions, and new sensations. That’s its job. Meditation is about learning to work with the mind as it is, not about trying to force it into some sort of Buddhist straitjacket.” (Mingyur, pg. 196)
One central purpose of any religion is to improve the lives of the adherents by influencing and being a catalyst for change. This is often considered the essence of Buddhism (at least for Theravada Buddhism) and this is an essential step toward enlightenment. The virtue of abiding by moral principles and the discussion of ethical requirements of Buddhism were traditionally a central focus of Buddha’s lessons. I try to make improvements in my life, not everyone sees that of course. ;-)But moral conduct and rules of the Sangha (group of adherents) are outlined and discussed with this as a goal.

Ciphers in Nature

I see a bubble of unknown origin
spreading a perfect wave
as a circle that grows on Pond’s surface
every now and then today.

Perhaps a fish
bumping against the glassy surface.

I read these as ciphers
telling me of my pleasure being here
which I presume to understand by intuition.

These whisper calmly in the silence, and
I feel this as the absence of emotion

Between the bird calls and tics of leaves
from insects pursuing their special habits.
I don’t see the waves of those sounds
but scientifically I know these touch my ears.

All these harbingers of pleasure
soothe my weariness as did the pheasant
that frantically emerged--
disturbed by my noisy feet--
and flew gracefully and loudly
across the field. Taking with him
the few light burdens of my life

leaving me careless and if not content
at least receptive to be so.

I can’t hear my heart beating,
I see it in the movement of my foot
when my legs are crossed
teetering, ticking rhythmically
showing the cadence of my life.

I am not the only one
who reads these circles and tics.
There is a kingfisher circling
ready for his dinner
-- as am I.

I.J. Hall, September 20, 2004

A Week (or Two) in Review

Most recently: I am assigned to work half day today at Pullman High School in the shop class of some sort. This is my first job here and first teaching gig in the State of Washington, and I am in a state of pleasure to be working and gainfully employed again. Vacations are great, but I seem to work harder during vacation than otherwise.
This morning (Monday) I had another one of those transitional experiences, when the Social Security office called me up at an appointed time and took my application for retirement benefits! so the third Wednesday in December I will receive a check for November, my first. I have lived this long, so I guess I can live that much longer.
I hope this isn't one of those situations where the appliance is guaranteed for three years and during the first month after the guarantee expires, it goes broken.
On Sunday we went to a picnic for the math department people and I spoke to some of the Chinese students, and one Korean. They are an interesting group, each very unique from the next.
Has anybody played that new yard-game, ladder ball? Like tossing boa's at a three step ladder and keeping score and like who gets to 21 first wins. It's not as easy as it looks. My first attempts were not so successful.
Unitarian church sermon on Sunday was appropriately about security, and there has been a dramatic discussion about security vis-a-vis blogging around this family. I have decided to post only personal items for myself, and not identify anyone else, and have no security whatsoever, because I don't think I should need it. I will not post other addresses to my links either, but I will encourage comments and discussion. I don't believe the exposure or vulnerability I have is of any consequence to me or anyone else, but maybe that feeling is because I am a white male in the dominate cultural power group and I can swagger around anywhere I want to go without anyone messing with me or else. Of course that's not true, I'm just teasing.
Saturday, we went to the Rodeo and saw live action of roping and saddle bronc riding and thoroughly enjoyed all of that. I never wanted to be a rodeo guy, I guess that was past my threshold of safety and exceeds my limit for risk taking. We can measure our risk aversion by looking back on our lives and seeing what we did and then judge what we might do in the future, but of course I might begin to take more risks, but I doubt that riding in a rodeo will be on that list ever.
One thing my Buddhist training has taught me is not to crave thrills, or entertainment from which I might derive adrenalin rushes etc. Life is too thrilling without trying to find additional gratuitous thrills or dangers.
Last week was very secure, moving boxes around and moving in and for example, we finally allowed Isaac to go outside without a personal chaperon and he came back very nicely. We won't let him out at night, however, for security reasons. The local gendarme, one of our neighbors is a policeman, told us his cat was attacked by a coyote just two houses away from us, and that seems like a rather unfriendly risk, so Isaac will have to stay in at nights. He likes to think about hunting quail which, along with other various species of birds, we have in great abundance.
The weather is very pleasant fall weather, no frost yet.

"Why do you blog?"

Good-Bye My Fancy

GOOD-BYE my fancy - (I had a word to say,
But 'tis not quite the time - The best of any man's word or say,
Is when its proper place arrives - and for its meaning,
I keep mine till the last.)

Behind a Good-bye there lurks much of the salutation of another
beginning - to me, Development Continuity, Immortality,
Transformation, are the chiefest life-meanings of Nature and
Humanity, and are the sine qua non of all facts, and each fact.
Why do folks dwell so fondly on the last words, advice,
appearance, of the departing? Those last words are not samples of
the best, which involve vitality at its full, and balance, and
perfect control and scope. But they are valuable beyond measure to
confirm and endorse the varied train, facts, theories and faith of
the whole preceding life.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Back to Leaves of Grass 1891
Walt Whitman
"...Those last words are not samples of
the best..." it is the details of each day and thoughts shared when we can that are the most important "...valuable beyond measure..."
Thus we can blog and share the most valuable parts of our lives!!

To answer the question: "Why do you blog?"

Meditation information / Buddhist

Sixteen Steps of Meditation

[This is a summary and paraphrase of the sixteen steps (often taught in Buddhism but usually in different ways to advanced students) as a quick reminder of the sequence to use in developing a meditation practice that is intended to actually produce results (ie. strengthening the mind's self control...) rather than just meditation for relaxation or escapism.]


A Spiritual Practice by Achun Buddhadasa Bhikkhu – (Thailand)
Based on the Four Foundations or supports of Mindfulness
Anapanasati – Giving attention to in and out breathing as an object of meditation.
Vipassana-bhavana – The cultivation of insight or direct realization.

I. Relating to the body.
One
Learning and using Long Breaths (the Breath-body -Pranayama) (full awareness)
Two
Understanding how short breathing affects us.
Three
To understand sankhara, the condition of the body by the breath, which replaces any consideration of a “soul.” We see the conditioner, the condition, and the process of conditioning.
Four
1) Calming the body-conditioner – the breath-body. 2) Guard an image and 3) manipulate it. 4) The fourth technique is controlling the mental images as we wish. 5) Concentrating everything on this one point is the fifth of our skillful means.

"You should practice [the four initial steps] until these steps require no effort and you have become well-versed in these activities.” These should be repeated at the beginning of each practice session.

II. Feeling Tone / Emotions
Five
“Step one of the second tetrad, ‘experiencing piti’ consists of contemplating piti (contentment) every time we breathe in and breath out… Find what this feeling is like.
Fully experience it. Is it heavy? Is it light? How coarse is it? How subtle? This is called “knowing its flavor.” (Buddhadasa, 1988, pg. 59)
Six
Focus on sukha (joy) as arising out of piti (contentment) …sukha does not stimulate or excite; sukha is the agent that makes the citta tranquil… Usually piti obscures sukha, but when piti fades away, sukha remains. The coarse feeling gives way to calm. Taste the tranquil flavor of sukha with every inhalation and exhalation.”
Seven
Vedana – feelings: condition coarse thoughts and subtle thoughts. It is an art; practice the spiritual art of controlling piti and sukha so that they benefit our lives.
Eight
Calming the mind conditioner while breathing in and breathing out – either by samadhi –a higher level of concentration; or by the wisdom –panna- method. We aim at the one pinnacled mind that has santi or Nibbana as its object. Panna (wisdom) realizes the true nature (characteristics, qualities, conditions) of all things to understand how piti arises and what will cause it to cease. Learning to control emotions, and dissipate negative emotions that cause or would create suffering.

III. Consciousness - Perceptions
Nine
Examine mind (citta)-- A feeling of wanting, grasping is 1)raga.
2) Dosa does not like, does not want, it is negative, pushing away (aversion).
3) Moha is ignorant. It does not know wrong and right, good and evil, running in circles. Get to know your mind: Is it superior – sharper or common? supreme –exalted or lacking yet to develop? Are we concentrated—samadhi?– or lacking focus? Is the mind liberated or grasping and clinging in attachment? Begin to understand our own minds.
Ten
"Allow the mind to rest in joy, delighted and content, supported by Dharma. Bask in joyfulness free of defilement (kilesa).”
Eleven
To concentrate the mind -- Samadhi. Having three distinct qualities.
Samahito –firm, steady, undistracted --focused on a single object. Stability, collectedness.
Parisuddho -- purity A mind empty of defilements.
Kammaniyo -- fit and supremely prepared to perform the duties of the mind. (not sleepy or tired.)
Twelve
Liberation: not letting the mind become attached to anything 1) e.g. Sensuality, possessions, necessities, gems, jewelry, gold, or money etc. 2) Let go of opinions, beliefs, views, and theories (because of ignorance avijja). 3) Dismiss traditions, habits, obsessions, superstitions. 4) Release possessions as ‘I’ or ‘mine.’ Let go with in and out breaths. Identify hindrances and apply the breaths to these five: 1 feelings of sensuality, 2) aversion, 3) depression and drowsiness, 4) agitation and distraction, and 5) doubt and uncertainty. Further, eliminate greed, anger, delusions and other defilements.
This is huge, to be reviewed every time one practices meditation.

IV: Objects of the Mind – Ideas about Dhamma
Thirteen
Contemplating impermanence -- Realize the impermanence of each of the twelve preceding steps. There is the simultaneous realization of when impermanence is truly seen. It also has the characteristic of dukkham, namely: it is painful and unbearable (unsatisfactoriness.) We can also find the characteristic of not-self (anatta) in it. As these things are always changing, impermanent, unsatisfactory [thus sources of suffering,] and beyond our control, we realize anatta as well… We see they are void of self-hood, which is sunnata… Impermanence is just thus, just like that, thusness [a fact of all nature.]
And so, tathata is seen as well. The short phrase aniccanupassana (contemplating impermanence) includes the realization of unsatisfactoriness, not-self, voidness, thusness, and conditionality as well. (ontology)
Fourteen
Dissolving, or viraga. Vi, in this case, means ‘not’ or ‘not having.’ Raga is another name for attachment [also upadana.] Watching attachment dissolve is like watching the stains in a cloth slowly fade away.
Fifteen
Quench the fear of birth, aging, illness, and death. Quench the symptoms of dukkha, such as pain, sorrow, sadness, and despair. Quench the wants and desires of agreeable and disagreeable things. Finally, quench the view of any of the five khandha [aggregates] as ‘self.’
Sixteen
Contemplating throwing back… returning, everything to which we were once attached.
Lokiya living beneath the world –
lokuttara living above the world.



Since this is a summary, it may be obvious that a complete understanding of all of these steps requires a tutorial and practice for each step in a gradual learning process. These sixteen steps can be thought of as the gateway to enlightenment, and must be entered repeatedly in order to have a lasting effect. Much of what is to be learned is kinesthetic in nature, that is, it is like learning to tie shoes or learning a sport and is only learned in a progressive way with patience and incremental practice. The "Buddhist Sutra" thirty lessons provides one source of this kind of instruction.

Introduction to Frame of Reference / Shameless Promotion

Introduction
What does it mean to be a "Freethinker?" Someone who thinks for themselves, studies, discusses their opinions with friends and searches for answers to life’s important questions? All of this and more. Frame of Reference has been compiled and written to accommodate the interests and curiosity of Freethinkers at whatever stage of development they may find themselves.
The goal of being a Freethinker is certainly obtainable, but the potential fallacies and pitfalls along the way are many and often subtle. Like land mines scattered throughout post-war Vietnam, fallacies of logic lurk in the writings of intellectuals and religious leaders that have done rhetorical battle throughout the millennia. Even the best writings are often obscure, allegorical, aphorisms, inept, pedantic or complicated logical proofs. Frame of Reference incorporates the best statement of wonder and challenges that, shows the importance of celebration and challenges that, and points out the mystery wherever it is found and challenges that. This is done in simple language, with examples to illustrate each point. Frame of Reference can thus be viewed as a study guide of how to lead a meaningful and enjoyable life, usable by most adults and people from all walks of life.
The first section, appropriately named Genesis, describes the origins of the book, gives some details about how it is organized and suggests ways that it might be used to stimulate further discussion among friends and relatives. The chapters are named "Stele" to give tribute to the ancients who recorded life-science teachings, to acknowledge the moral nature of the concepts involved and to suggest the mix of inspiration with fact. These 24 Stele are organized into five topics: I Physical Properties; II Humans; III Gods; IV Ethical Discoveries; and V Practical Considerations. Other organizations might have been chosen, but this seems to facilitate a logical and simple presentation. In each Stele, an effort is made to show how even the discussion of Mathematics, for example, relates to the conversation about morality and ethics.
For someone who is approaching this book for the first time and feels the need for a quick fix or a boost of morale, it might be useful to proceed immediately to the Undevicesimus Stele (19th Chapter): Meaning in Life. This Stele may give the reader the spark of inspiration needed to pursue a more diligent study of the entire book from start to finish. Whereas if two lovers are beginning this study together, they might wish to approach first the Duodecimus Stele, (12th Chapter): Love, where they will find some useful instruction about how to enjoy their lives together. Thus each Stele stands on its own and is not a prerequisite for the next. A word of caution, it is best to study an entire Stele before moving to another, otherwise the reader may be left with an incomplete or misunderstanding of the subject at hand.

If you can't find this book, Frame of Reference, by searching Google; here is the reference line: http://www.2think.org/frame_of_reference_index.shtml

Hear the Meaning

The water flows bye so fast here,
But what advantage does that convey?
Is it a virtue of the water or
A compliment to the slope of the land?

As the Deschutes River crashes against the rocks
It makes an inarticulate roaring,
Frothing white, it gaily splashes and rolls…

It is only after listening carefully,
Patiently waiting for meaning to emerge
Do I hear and understand the river’s wisdom.

Earth’s surface, the surrounding terrain,
Holds water just as pure, just as wet
As that which dances past so
Eagerly on this gentle, early morning.

That water rests, protected from air,
Safe from those organisms that inhabit stagnant pools
Until the moment some eons after beginning
Its journey through all that dirt,
It seeps into a creek

Soon to join its neighbors in a stream
Chancing to flow into this river,
Then jumps and parades over these rocks
Frothing white in this maturity

“I gaily splash and roll rejoicing in this freedom.
I breathe the pure air and marvel at the diving swallows
As I cradle and nourish the beautiful ducks
With my happy and flamboyant Soul.”

I.J. Hall, June 13, 2004

Gateway to security

Yesterday I began assembling a gate at the bottom of the stairs that lead down from the deck, and today I finished just before it started to rain. This is the last enclosure to create a fully functional dog yard. I admit that there are many people who have greater accomplishments to be proud of for the day, consider all the Democrats in Colorado who are giving such fine speeches, for example. What else of note has happened today? Nothing much in the news, so possibly this gate ranks fairly high. I'll check tomorrow in the paper and see if there is anything superior to that.
I figured out how to add images, so I am going to put here a picture of Isaac:

This is a handsome cat, for sure. This picture taken shortly after we got him. Now I will put Riley into this space.


This is actually a painting of Riley that Libby and I commissioned from an artist in Corvallis. Isn't she just lovely? Now she won't get loose and get run-over by a passing car.

Weekend dreams

I wrote this nice post about dreaming, but it didn't stick, it got lost with a dropped interent connection. And I don't have time to recreate it, sorry.

Stamina

Aside from the obvious drawbacks,
Obtaining maturity has its benefits

Including the compelling propensity to write poetry,
some of which might actually be good.
Quality considerations notwithstanding,
it is pleasant to still be here
Tasting life in both intimate and subtle ways.
Some of my skills have improved
if not my stamina
Possibly my prowess and capacity
to express and show affection.
Acknowledging in the best way I can
my appreciation for this Grace
Each new day.


Moss

The moss lies softly on the scrub oak
Warming and protecting the willing branches,
but does not like the fir.
The affinity they share satisfies the moss’ needs
more than the Oaks’,
But these sturdy trees give solace
and show their unique beauty.

Weekend dreams

I wonder how many writers get their inspiration from keeping track of the stories that unfold during their dreaming? I usually dream about events in my past that are altered to render them either frustrating or challenging in some way. It's like the emotions that were at the time unspoken or supressed have lingered and now surface, or at least buble about in my dreams in fictional ways. However, there is never really an interesting plot line or intriguing suspence, usually just some kind of unfinished task the end of which is always just beyond reach.
I can usually remember my dreams for a few minutes after I wake up in the morning, or even in the middle of the night. Sometimes I just get up so there is enough transition so the dream can end and possibly a new one that I might enjoy begins.
Dreaming is the poor-man's entertainment.

Just for the fun of it

I.J. Hall
May 9, 2004


I’ve been sitting here under Sun on the West End Bench for the past hour waiting for a poem to come. But so far all I see is the poetic movements of the same fish, birds and ducks about which I have written dozens of poems.

Even that huge bass has been eulogized by this pencil.
Hector came back yesterday, but he is old news; [a handsome osprey]
his fifth consecutive year.
As we move to the single post bench for inspiration
I notice the pine trees are growing
Stoutly bulging through their bark,
but that is barely grist for my mill.
Cocoa has found something fragrantly dead
to roll in; hardly worthy of a verse.
I decorated Buddha with gold trim;
the wat is gradually looking authentic. But who cares?
Snow White laid another goose egg
since the first four didn’t hatch.
The two all-black sister chickens escort
their brood; another 13 chicks for the menagerie.
The two new ducks are chasing about
gorging on cotton from the trees
and rapidly growing to maturity; both female so far.
Lightening clouds are building from the same thermal
that is taking a huge Eagle soaring;
coasting up to 1,000 feet, apparently
just for the fun of it…

So I can just keep moving around just for the fun of it too!
…and there it is; my inspiration! How welcome after all.
I can just walk around here just for the fun of it.…..
Like the newly hatched swallows flying.…..
Even the wind has come up for no apparent reason.
This concept probably explains most of these animal behaviors
.…..or so it seems.
The scrub jay found the corn I put out just to see it.
The Buddhist gong is ringing repeatedly.…..
I seem to be the only one who didn’t at first recognize
this lofty motivation.…..
Oh! I dropped my pencil accidentally, and return for it.…..
but at least I know what to look for and why.
When I find it, I feel the same satisfaction as when-
after the last few months of searching-
I see the Western Pond turtles for the same reason
Climb up the east log. First one….. now two, bask under Sun
lounging on the center log for a long time,
teaching me what “for the fun of it “ means.
His square snout stretching up, he moves laboriously
Carrying probably 20 years of his life on his back-
Much as my problems and mistakes weigh heavy on me-
She is lounging more relaxed, enjoying warmth and his care.

Then that same Eagle, most likely, flies directly overhead.…..
Circling too close; makes Abner squawk to sound alarm. [White Chinese Swan Goose]
We sneak upstairs to fetch the camera to capture the turtles.…..
And so the day progresses on this happy course.…..
After all.

Productive day

Friday always seems to be productive since there is no more time in the regular week to procrastinate doing what was supposed to be done this week already. I took another pickup load of yard debris cuttings to the landfill transfer station, no charge. Then bought some fencing to make a dog yard alongside the house. (Possibly a cat yard too if the cat doesn't just figure out how to jump or climb the fence.)
I went to a first week picnic at the university, I had to pay so I ate two cookies, when one would have normally been enough. Later I went to the World or National Lentil Festival, which has been going on for twenty years this time every year in Pullman. The music was good, and we had spring rolls and terryaki chicken for dinner. I bought my first (and probably only) Washington State University hat and t-shirt just to kid of feel better adjusted to this new place. I mentioned to several people that I was a duck, and when they figured out what that meant (UofO alumnus) they were mostly suspicious or offered competitive feelings.
Isaac (our grey cat)has gone out for a stroll several times now, but he needs a constant escort since I have had to follow him into the neighbors yards each time. Now he wants to go out on his own, but it is too soon to trust that he will find his way back and not otherwise kill some of the hundreds of quail we have around here. He is such a good hunter, and he seems on the prowl since it has been several weeks since he ate any fresh mice or a bird.
I am looking forward to tomorrow, but for no particular reason; but that seems like a good way to end the day.

Waiting 50 years

Today was memorable because I went to the Social Security office, located in Lewiston, ID. After more than 50 years I have beat the odds and have begun to sign up for social security, which will gratefully arrive when I turn 62. I still feel as healthy and alive as when I was just old enough to sign up for my original card. It doesn't make sense for me to wait until I'm 65 or more to get full benefits, because I am not otherwise gainfully employed anyway. I was curiously melancholy going into the office, like one stage of my life was turning into another, possibly less exciting.I suppose that is up to me, that is, to make the rest of my days more exciting than the ones preceding.
It has been raining for the last several days, as earlier reported. The rain may damage the wheat crop with mold if it continues to be wet, and certainly the barley crop for malting purposes will be reduced in quality most likely.
I lost Internet service yesterday so didn't make a post. But otherwise life goes on much the same.

two shorts

Life Force

I am sitting with the late afternoon Sun
Shinning hot on my face
Accepting this as a healing gesture from nature
In the same way the purple pansies
And orange nasturtiums
Facing their life force
Convert this energy into beauty.
I.J. Hall, October 3, 2004


Beauty

To appreciate the beauty of a tree
It must not only be looked at
But sat under.
I.J. Hall

Pass Time

Sun’s last wink through the trees
Is a signal of passing.
The round of life rolls on
Otherwise unnoticed --
The best possible way. As they say:
“Time passes when you’re having fun.”
Of course it always passes, so being “in the moment”
Is an illusion, a fantasy of wishful thinking.
Being conscious of the passing of time
Is probably a gross waste of effort
Since being engrossed is more interesting.
Interacting and enjoying the company of others
Without consideration of time
Is probably what "being present in the moment" means.

Quiet day...

It was a cool day in Pullman, with a spate of rain several times. But that was pleasant for outside work. I took a full, and I mean full, load of juniper cuttings to the lanfill transfer site. Even though trimming the juniper, leaves that unsightly naked side edge with all the limbs exposed, I learned a bright side this morning when 30 0r more California Quail were roosting on the limbs and I could see them just outside this office window. They are so charming. we must have 100 or more of the little chirpers here. All the way from handsome males with white lines on their heads, elegant females with soft grey plumage , both male and female sport the top feather, to little tiny chicks that follow along in droves. It's impossible to feel lonely with all these quail outside everytime I go to the other side of the house or out the door, etc.

I have begun to repot some of the house plants we have too many of, and some are root bound and need to be sorted. I am trying to plant some starts for the church sale, but don't have enough containers. Anybody want some house plants. We haven't figured out where to put them in the house, so for now they are all out with the geraniums.
I have been reading other people's blogs, and it is interesting to just click and see what comes up. People from all around the world are blogging, some are even interesting.
I am trying to send a poem each time I write. I take them from the collections I have made in the past. Haven't been doing much writing lately. I enjoy comments and questions.

Chime

The invisible wind
Touches the chime lightly
And turns that silent force into a chorale,
A pleasant, relaxing ringing.

Each sounding is a reminder
Of past friendships who have touched me,
A poem for lost loves
Who have joined in my life’s song.

After the wind passes
The chime is silent.
So am I, but we are both still here
Capable of resonating again.

The next person who touches me
Shall hear this melody, angels singing
If not from my lips
At least as a stirring in her Soul.

She will know my truth
Because I have learned to say it.
She will hear my voice as if ringing soft notes
Saying sweet words of love.

I.J. Hall, October 3, 2004

A lesson about Impermanence

Today the weather has changed, mercifully, from the near 100F temps we have been having into a windy, cloudy and cooler day. However this is a mixed blessing, as I sit and count the seconds after the lightening, last count eight, I hear the sounds of the fire truck siren going in that direction a few minutes later.
Today's activities included cleaning out the cardboard boxes from the garage and taking a load to recycling. I always feel so righteous when I do recycling, as if I were somehow doing something sacred. Of course I have been doing this recycling for a long time now, but that feeling of "doing good" never seems to lessen. When we (Riley and I, Isaac is still in house arrest) were out we bought some shelving and potting soil (actually steer manure) and a few discount pots, so we can replant the house plants, and possibly make some plant starts for the fund raising sale the Unitarian church is having this weekend. The shelving ended up along the wall in this room which is my study/dressing room next to the downstairs bedroom.
This house in Pullman has two stories, my story is this: we have begun using the family room downstairs as the master bedroom, in fact the whole downstairs is functionally a master/suite, with a full shower/bath, laundry and plenty of closet space. The Main bedroom upstairs will be the guest bedroom. This is a good utilization of space, since we have a large living/dining room up as well.
The electricity is trying to go out so I will close, only after saying that I also took off the top of the old black ford pickup and began trimming the shrubbery, and dumping it into the back of the truck so I can take it to recycling also. (The lightening was just three seconds away that time and repeating.) More about that in the next post.
Interestingly, when the thunder echoes here it lasts about 20 seconds, because it bounces around all the rolling hills which make up the Palouse. I have never experienced this long lasting thunder before. There was a ligntening strike 1/2 second away just a few minutes ago. That is too close for comfort. Now its raining too, so that will mitigate any possible fire issue.

The Moon Overhead

The ¾ moon shows brightly
Through the cold winter air
When the clouds don’t blur or obscure it
As I watch the flow of the rough waves
The sky changes from dark shadows
To a lamp surrounded by a bronze glowing
Forcing the melancholy question?
Is the motion I see the partial but constant moon
Or the flowing clouds passing
– which might you see?
A constant soul shines when it can
As the love I imagine between us
When it is dark, I want to see it glow
When it shines clearly through the gaps
I want to see the passing clouds
Nothing satisfies my searching heart.
When Moon hides behind the thickest wave
I sense forlorn against my intentions
I want to see it clear and open.
My life passes thus in front of the partial moon
Now a glowing shine surrounded by gold rays
Then dark and mysterious, longing
The flow of the clouds passing so rapidly
Yet each new opening brings the pure moon
The optimism of love once again inspired.~

Just another beautiful Sunday

Today I went to the Unitarian church in Moscow, stopping on the way with Riley to visit the dog park at the animal shelter to throw the ball for her. She is obsessive.
The service was okay, but it always feels a little strange to see all these people whom I don't know, except a few I remembered. A woman spoke about her art and how it was a compelling force in her life and likewise for so many others.
Isaac was waiting for us when we got home, sacked out upside down in the bed downstairs where it is cooler. It is so hot today, up to 100 in some places. Too hot to even go outside except to water, which allows me to get wet too.
We are still unpacking boxes of course, since we have only arrived in our new house, and I hung some pictures. It is hot upstairs and even though we have air conditioning I am reluctant to use it, preferring to just stay downstairs where it is about 25 degrees cooler.
I finished my Iris Murdock book, The Good Apprentice, today, I have been nursing it for about 4 months through all the travel and infrequent reading events lately.
I am attaching a poem I wrote sometime ago, context long forgotten.

Item of interest

I am home alone and this has given me time to set up this blog.
Most of my daily activities are routine and of little interest to anyone. However, I have compiled a lesson book on Buddhism which is unusual and possibly of interest to some, it was certainly interesting to me in the time it took to prepare, and now in review it is a pleasure to scan parts every now and then. This is available upon request by email file transfer.
I have prepared several unpublished collections of poetry on: nature, love, personal transformation and of course personal poetry shared with Libby.
In the past I have written four books, most recently the -Buddhist Sutra, before that -Frame of Reference, more than ten years ago -Jack and Lucky, and almost ancient history -The New Trojan Horse. I wrote these books with the intention of sharing them, and that is in part what I am doing with this blog, sharing my ideas and my life.
Today for excitement, I will probably go out and trim the hedge and do some pruning.